


The Best Surprise of My Life

by BeautyandtheConsultingDetective



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is 10 years older but they're both consenting adults, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, I swear I wrote this before Bridgerton was a thing lmao, Inexperienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Loss of Virginity, Male Crowley (Good Omens), Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyandtheConsultingDetective/pseuds/BeautyandtheConsultingDetective
Summary: Miss Aziraphale Fell and The Duke of Eden, Lord Anthony Crowley, are wed! This is the tale of their wedding night, the day their happily ever after begins.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 83
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs, Top Crowley Library





	The Best Surprise of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, please don't think I was inspired by Bridgerton. I swear I started writing this fic before it came out lmao. I'd post a screenshot of the Word document date to prove it if I thought anyone cared *cries hysterically* I've always been interested in the aristocracy as well as the monarchy, and that's how the idea for this fic was born! Sorry cause the language isn't archaic enough, though. This is supposed to be 18th century England or thereabouts, I wasn't aiming for complete historical accuracy to be honest.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this little story! Please read the end notes right after, especially if you're a young vagina-owner, there's an important PSA.

Aziraphale shivered in her silken white nightgown and debated whether or not to put on a robe. She knew she wasn’t really cold. The master bedroom she was currently fidgeting in was warmly lit with a fire, crackling merrily in the giant golden fireplace. Her rampant nerves were the cause of her trembles but perhaps a robe would help all the same. The blasted nightgown wasn’t doing her inner turmoil any favours.

But it was doing her body a huge one. Spaghetti-strapped, tight and flimsy, the gown hugged her full figure like a second skin and showed a good deal of her plump legs. It was by far the most revealing piece of clothing she had ever donned. Positively scandalous. But she supposed that if one was going to wear a dress like this, there was no time more appropriate than one’s wedding night.

_Wedded to a duke, of all people_ , she mused. A duke she only met twice before tying the knot earlier that day. The match was arranged between his landed gentry family, the Fells, and the Duke of Eden himself. Why the Duke would choose to marry so low, no one had the foggiest, but the Fells tripped all over themselves the moment the Duke came to visit their humble estate to ask for Aziraphale’s hand himself a fortnight ago.

Gabriel, Aziraphale’s eldest brother, had told her that she had caught his eye at the village ball a month ago. “Typical, isn’t it?” he had said in that booming voice of his. “The one time you chose to leave the estate and pull your nose out of your books, you managed to catch a _Duke’s_ attention. Not a Lord or a Baron, Zira, a _Duke_!”

_Yes yes_ , even now, Aziraphale couldn’t help but think with exasperation. _He’s a Duke, I married him and now I’m a Duchess. But where in heavens is he?_

She quite liked Duke Crowley, with his lean frame, flaming red hair and kind, golden eyes. He had always spoken to her in a manner suited to his noble station, gentlemanly and respectful. Even though they only met twice, both times chaperoned by Aziraphale’s maid, she knew that he was a good man. At least, she hoped it wasn’t all a facade, hiding a cruel sadist underneath. Like the stories she heard about Lord Hastur and his poor wife, Lady Lorelai.

Aziraphale shivered again. She had always been a worrywart, fretting over nothing her whole life. Even now, on her wedding night, terrible scenarios featuring the Duke and herself played in her mind. She thought about him disrespecting her, mocking her, _hurting_ her. No one would help her, after their wedding, she was legally his. And he was a Duke, as everyone and their mothers loved to remind her. A Duke was untouchable.

She had to sit down. Surveying his (their) bedroom that was bigger than the Fells entire foyer, she chose to sit down on the floor right in front of the fireplace. She didn’t dare mess up the perfectly made, satin red bed in the middle of the room that looked big enough to fit a woolly mammoth. _Well, if it weren’t for that canopy and the lace drapes_ , she mused to distract herself desperately from what she was going to do in that bed very soon. _Maybe even two woolly mammoths might fit in it_. She giggled at the thought, near hysterical.

_Oh dear, where is he?_

Him. Duke Anthony Crowley of Eden, a fruitful province famed worldwide for its luscious apple farms and bountiful farmlands. It was said that almost half of the crops that fed England came from Eden and its agricultural sector. Not to mention its teeming livestock. Eden is an abundant county indeed, and it all belonged to the last of the Crowleys, Anthony Crowley, her new husband himself.

He had been the only child of the 5th Duke of Eden, Lucian Crowley and his wife Duchess Ashmoreth Crowley, both deceased before Aziraphale was born. When his dear father passed, he inherited the dukedom at only 15. After 19 years, the 6th Duke of Eden, Anthony Crowley was beloved by his people, just as his father was.

Duke Crowley could have married a princess if he wanted. He could have been a king. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in England, if not the whole world. Yet he chose to tie himself to lowly Miss Aziraphale Fell of Soho whom he made eye contact with once at a ball.

Miss Fell, 10 years his junior, came from a respectable enough family. A little plump with long silver curls, blue eyes and extremely bookish, she was to inherit next to nothing from her family estates as she was the youngest daughter of five to Baronet Francis Fell and his wife, Lady Angela Fell. No respectable nobleman would ever consider her for marriage, she was the lowest amongst the highest. Aziraphale was happy with this, however. She had contented herself with escaping the aristocratic circles her family was so enamoured with and marrying a commoner. She could live a normal life without the need to bend over backwards for the pompous upper class who had looked down on her all her life.

Yet here she was, currently warming herself in front of the fireplace in a Duke’s bedroom, in his family’s seat, Bentley Hall, where she married him only hours prior. She never could understand why castles that belonged to noblemen were never called castles. Bentley Hall was not a Hall, unless it was named after one of the five halls it contained inside its massive 15,000-acre interior, sitting in the middle of its lush green 700-acre grounds.

_It’s a castle_ , Aziraphale grumbled as she stared into the flames. _Why not call it a castle? Why call it a hall? False advertising, if I’ve ever seen it._

_…. maybe like its master…._

Aziraphale shook herself from those thoughts once again. For better or for worse, she was married to the Duke now and he had never been less than positively lovely to her, not once. No matter how eager her family was to climb the ranks, they would have never allowed their youngest to marry a tyrant. The Fells asked around discreetly to learn of the Duke of Eden’s disposition and they had not been disappointed. Aziraphale had heard nothing but good things about her new husband. It wasn’t fair of her to expect the worst from him.

_Though making me wait so long certainly is the worst thing he’s done to me yet. And tonight too, of all nights! Did he trip and break his neck on the way from the party?_

After the massive and joyous wedding reception, Aziraphale had been whisked away by her new ladies-in-waiting to be bathed, brushed and polished to within an inch of her life in her new apartments. They had poured sweet rose-scented oils into the warm bathwater, giggling and making jests with her all the while. Before she knew it, she was dried and rubbed with more rose-scented lotion, three ladies-in-waiting working on her whole body at once while two more fretted over her long hair.

“Is rose His Grace’s favourite scent?” Aziraphale had asked curiously. The young girls had only giggled at her some more, eyes shining with mirth. They were clearly caught up in the romance of the new Duchess of Eden’s position as young girls were prone to do.

Aziraphale’s silver hair was left loose down her back but somehow artfully arranged in a way that she never could tame them into staying all her life. _These girls are clearly magicians_ , Aziraphale had thought as she stared at herself in the mirror while her new maids fretted over what to dress her in, bickering in front of the giant oak wardrobe.

After slipping her into the gown, rubbing more rose scented balm on her lips and positioning her at the foot of the bed, the ladies-in-waiting left with more giggles and well wishes.

_Good night, Your Grace! And best of luck!_

That must have been more than half an hour ago.

Aziraphale sighed, leaning her head against the stone of the fireplace, safe from the flames but the iron fireplace screen. The warmth from the stone was welcomed. She couldn’t seem to stop shivering, alone in this dimly lit bedroom.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door to the bedroom opened. Aziraphale startled from where she sat curled up on the floor. Slowly, she turned her head to face who must surely be the Duke, at this hour, on this night. And it was.

Duke Crowley stood a few feet away from her, tall and handsome as ever. He was still in the clothes he wore at their wedding reception, a fine black velvet suit tailored to perfection. He had unbuttoned the top three buttons of the crisp white shirt he wore underneath, revealing an attractively hairy chest. Aziraphale swallowed at the sight before meeting his gaze.

Her husband was staring at her, the way she was illuminated from the fire, her silver hair lit up like a halo around her beautiful head. Her skin was very pale, like milk, and the orange light of the flames served to show how flawless it was. And how much of it was on display. The Duke swallowed as well.

“You’re turning red, sitting so close to the fire.” He told her.

Aziraphale shivered at his deep voice. She had always liked his voice, from the moment he introduced himself to her in her family’s parlour for the first time a little over a week ago. _Good morning Miss Fell_ , he had said. _My name is Anthony Crowley. I’m here to ask for your hand._

She smiled shyly at him, couldn’t resist making a jest. “As red as your hair, Your Grace?”

His thin lips curled up into an amused smile. “If you stay there much longer, you might get redder than even that.”

Striding towards her, he reached down and grasped her soft hands in his large ones before pulling her gently to her feet. Aziraphale’s quite impressive height only came up to her husband’s chin and she adored that fact. It was the perfect height difference, to her.

She met his striking golden eyes with her baby blues, still in a teasing mood. “Do you not like the colour red on me, Your Grace?”

“I like you the way you are,” He said simply, smiling softly at her in a way that made her melt inside. “All soft and pale and silvery.”

He released one of her hands to touch her hair, stroking it back from her neck and shoulders with his long fingers. She shivered as the slightly cool digits touched her warmed skin.

“There’s no need to call me Your Grace, Aziraphale. You are my wife now. The Duchess of Eden.” He said. His voice was so soft. “You will call me Anthony.”

Mesmerized, Aziraphale stared into her husband’s eyes. “Anthony.” She repeated, softly.

“That’s right.” He smiled. His hand in Aziraphale’s hair was still gently carding through the long curls, his other hand firm around hers. “I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long. Your family is quite relentless with their well wishes, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale groaned, exasperated. “I hope they didn’t embarrass me too frightfully.”

“Only a little,” He answered, a little smirk on his lips. “They kept telling me different ways on how to keep you happy.”

“Oh?” She flushed. “And how does one do that, according to them?”

“Ply you with books, mostly,” He laughed, his gleaming white teeth on display. “But I knew that already.”

Anthony sobered up considerably, his face turning serious as he scrutinized his new bride’s flushing face. “It’s all the ways I don’t know yet that I’m dying to learn.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say to that. She probably should have said something along the lines of “me too” while smiling flirtatiously but she was absolutely tongue-tied at the heat in her husband’s eyes, in the proprietary way one of his arms was circling her waist and the way his other hand moved to cup her round cheek. Her hands shook as they lifted, palms on Anthony’s broad chest.

“When I saw you at that ball,” He whispered. “I thought I was looking at a real-life angel, come down from heaven to bless us all with her presence. With your pale hair and your pale skin and your pale dress, you shone. In that moment, you looked like real divine light was shining right out of you, Aziraphale.”

He pulled her body to him until she was flush against his frame. He told her, “I thought about how it wasn’t fair that I was the one people referred to as ‘Your Grace’ when you were right there, shining with divine light. A real-life angel amongst mere mortals. Surely, you are the one blessed with the Lord’s grace. Surely, you deserved to be called ‘Your Grace’ more than me,” He grinned in a way that made Aziraphale feel like she was in on the joke. “In that moment I knew what I had to do to make things right.”

Aziraphale was having a hard time keeping up with his story. How could he say all these things to her like he wasn’t the most handsome man that anyone on Earth had ever seen?

“I had to be quick to win your hand, you see,” He explained apologetically. “I couldn’t risk any other men beating me to it. I know the whole rushed affair of our proposal and marriage caused quite a scandal, I apologize-”

“Your Grace!” Aziraphale spluttered in disbelief. “I-I mean, Anthony. I assure you, no other men would ever look at me and my position as anything even close to desirable. And-and, even if there were any, none could ever come close to you. You must know that?”

Aziraphale sighed, setting her gaze downwards and away from her husband’s confused face. “I fear that… you must know… you have married a woman so beneath you-”

He scoffed so loudly that Aziraphale’s head whipped up to stare at him, struck but his audacity to mock what is nothing but the truth. “None of that now, angel, I won’t have it. You are my wife, you are the Duchess of Eden, now everything and everyone is beneath you. Do you understand?”

Although deeply touched by the fierceness and conviction of her husband’s words, she couldn’t help but pout at the injustice of being scolded. She was only telling the truth after all.

A slow smirk took over Anthony’s face at the sight of his pouting bride. She was adorable when put out. He leaned in close, making her eyes turn as round as dinner plates, her little sulk forgotten.

“You smell like roses.” He whispered, his breath hot on her cheek.

Supressing another shiver, she whispered back. “Yes. Do you like it?”

He nodded, leaning in even closer until his lips brushed against her temple. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply through his nose, pressed against her hairline. “I like roses.”

Aziraphale had her eyes closed as well. “I’m glad. I-I-,” She opened her eyes and met his gaze, summoning all her courage. “I want you to like me. I want to be the kind of woman you like.”

His gaze felt like a heated touch from a lover’s hands as it raked down Aziraphale’s body. “I don’t like women like you, angel,” His deep voice murmured. “I only like _you_.”

Her heart pounded away in her chest as her husband’s hands moved to her back, seeking out the thin silk ribbons that tied the gown closed. He unlaced them slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he tugged the knot loose. When it came free, she felt her back bare itself to the room and she shuddered at the feeling.

“I got to see you in all sorts of splendour today,” He whispered, eyes tracing lines of heat across her torso. “In your marvellous white wedding gown, your resplendent cream reception dress. Now let me see you as the Lord made you. May I?”

She inhaled softly, exhaling equally gently. A beat passed before she slowly nodded.

Anthony smiled at her before tucking his thumbs under the spaghetti straps on her shoulders and easing the dress from her body, letting it slip off her arms and pool on the floor at their feet.

Even though she agreed to it, Aziraphale gasped at being bared to her husband’s hungry eyes. She knew her face was impersonating a tomato, her cheeks felt hotter than the fireplace. She tried to turn away.

Catching her under her arms, Anthony lifted her off her feet. Aziraphale yelped and clutched at his biceps, shocked at finding herself airborne all of a sudden. “Anthony!!!”

He said nothing, only carrying her to their giant bed and gently laying her down atop it. When she realized her husband intended to stand at the foot of their bed to regard her as she laid prone before him, she flushed even further. Instinctively, her arms moved to cover her bare breasts while her legs snapped shut, calves hanging off the edge of the bed.

Still saying nothing, he bent over her and gently removed her folded arms from her chest. He laid them firmly on the bed on either side of her head. His fingers traced a line over her arms, her shoulders, her chest and her stomach until he finally reached her thighs. Grasping the thick limbs, he pulled them apart gently but firmly, making Aziraphale gasp loudly. She was completely exposed to him, from head to toe.

Anthony straightened up and took his new wife’s body in. She was a vision, crafted by God perfectly, as he always knew she would be. Her body was full in all the right places, lush curves and soft thickness everywhere, a perfect hourglass figure. It didn’t surprise him how well-endowed her full breasts were, too. Even laying down, they were pleasingly mountainous _. The neckline of her dresses always did look ready to burst at the seams_ , he thought fondly.

Her skin was pale despite her furious blush, perfectly unblemished, extremely soft to the touch. Flowing silver locks of hair framed her beautiful face, staining the red sheets with a flash of champagne. Piercing blue eyes stared up at him, pink lips parted as she waited with bated breath to see what he would say or do next.

Inhaling loudly through his nose, Anthony whispered, “There are no words to be found anywhere in the whole of creation to describe how perfect you are, my angel.”

Aziraphale flushed at that and turned her face away. Once more, she fought against the impulse to cover herself.

She felt movement at the foot of the bed. Curious, she sneaked a glance and promptly did a double take. Her husband was getting undressed, tugging off his velvet suit jacket and button down. He dropped each article carelessly to the floor like they weren’t worth a fortune before working on his trousers and pants.

When he caught Aziraphale peeking, he smirked devilishly but said nothing. Anthony maintained eye contact with her as he pushed his white briefs off his slim hips.

Her face flamed even as she regarded her husband’s body curiously. She had never seen a man naked before but even she could tell this man was unsurprisingly stunning. Anthony’s skin was tanned a light golden shade and looked smooth and faultless. He had muscled shoulders and a broad chest, covered with auburn hair. Aziraphale found his hairy chest dizzyingly attractive but she had no idea why. Her eyes trailed down his lean torso to look shyly at his erect manhood.

_Oh gosh_ , she thought faintly, _it’s so… long_.

Aziraphale’s face must have betrayed a bit of her trepidation as Anthony gently soothed, “I’ll take care of you, angel. I won’t hurt you.”

Returning her gaze to his face, she whispered back, “I know.” She smiled before adding, “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

The bashful softness and curious wonder that came with discovering something new with a lovely man aside, Aziraphale had found herself deeply aroused from the moment her dress left her body. Now that they were both nude and embarrassment was slowly becoming a distant memory, her arousal came to the forefront of her mind with vengeance. She could feel herself gushing, far more than she had ever experienced in her life. She pressed her thighs together to soothe the ache.

Anthony’s eyes were drawn to the movement. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” He pulled her thighs apart once more, groaning at the sight of her arousal. “You’re dripping.”

She couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed as his eyes hungrily took in the flower between her legs. She was too aroused. Her breaths were coming fast, making her chest heave. She just wanted to be touched.

“Do you know how to touch yourself?” He asked. She shook her head, eyes wide at the intimate question. He chuckled, golden eyes glinting. “You’ll learn tonight. Here.”

He took her right hand and brought it to her pussy, pressing her fingers right against her wetness. She gasped to find just how wet she had become. Nothing had even really happened yet!

“Just do what feels good.” Anthony instructed, sitting on the bed between her thighs. His eyes were trained on her face as his big hands gently stroked her legs.

Biting her full bottom lip, Aziraphale obeyed him. She moved her fingers against herself, just feeling and gathering the slickness up and down her folds. Soft, wet sounds followed her movements and she swallowed at how arousing they were. A glance at her husband’s face proved that she wasn’t the only one who found it sexy. He looked positively ravenous as he stared between her legs.

Aziraphale truly had no idea what she was doing, but he told her to do whatever felt good and simply touching her wet pussy proved to be just that. As she stroked clumsily, the tip of her middle finger grazed a nub at the top of her pussy. She gasped at the searing heat that went through her, locking eyes with her husband.

He smiled before answering her unvoiced question. “That’s called a clitoris,” He said. “Play with it.”

Flushed, she rubbed the pad of her index finger around the _clitoris_. Stroking it in circular motion, she couldn’t help but let out a moan at how good it felt. Waves of pleasure rolled down her legs, making her spread them wider and arch her back as her hand continued to move over her pussy. She could feel herself leaking even more, staining her thighs and the red coverlet beneath their bodies.

“Fuck,” Anthony cursed. “You look amazing, angel. Let me just-” He removed her hand from herself before seizing her thighs, one in each hand. He knelt down on the floor at the foot of the bed and tugged Aziraphale to the very edge of the mattress. She gasped when he tossed one of her legs over his shoulder and splayed the other one out to spread her open even more.

“Anthony!” She exclaimed out of shock. _His face is right… right…_

“Shhh, lovely thing,” He whispered, already licking his lips at the delicious sight before him. “I’ll make you feel good.” He descended upon her like a feast.

Aziraphale couldn’t help crying out at the feeling of a greedy mouth moving against the most sensitive part of her body. _He’s licking up my… my…_ she thought, hysterically. Not even in her own mind could she finish these scandalous sentences, thus was her chaste upbringing. And to have a man lap at her pussy with tongue and lips, groaning all the while, clearly enjoying the act…

The feeling was indescribable. Her husband’s tongue was agile, licking circles around her clitoris the way she did with her finger. Her helpless moans encouraged him to move his tongue harder against the little nub until Aziraphale was gushing like a fountain, her thighs trembling. For every time he licked up her slick, more pooled out of her for him to eagerly repeat the action, again and again. He seemed to savour the taste, the way he closed his eyes in bliss and hummed deep in his throat after every lap of his tongue.

The thought was too much for the poor bride and she felt her arousal crest in an alarming way, making her cry out. “Anthony!” She didn’t know what was happening.

Evidently, her husband did as he did not let up, doubling his efforts between her legs. His bright red head moved jerkily as he tongued her clitoris firmer. With a jolt, she suddenly felt her husband’s long fingers against her pussy, circling her entrance before his index finger dipped smoothly inside her. It was the first time she had been breached by anything.

At the intense new feeling, she arched her back and orgasmed straight into her husband’s face. Their loud moans practically reverberated the walls.

Breathing harshly, Aziraphale looked blearily between her legs at her husband, who had stopped his ministrations to face her with a smile. “That was an orgasm, angel. Did it feel good?”

She couldn’t do more than nod, awe-struck by her husband’s wet face and how undisturbed he seemed at the fact. He even leaned down to give a parting kiss and a slow lick to her pussy, making her blush furiously. Pulling his finger from inside her, he smirked at the sight of her flushed face.

“Up the bed now, angel.” He instructed as he rose from the floor. They moved together to the head of the bed where Aziraphale settled against the pillows while Anthony slid between her legs, hovering on top of her.

She caught sight of his penis and gasped at how erect it was, flushed a deep red colour, almost purple. Having been taught a little about men’s pleasure and nothing at all about women’s, as was common with young ladies of her birth, she knew enough to understand that being in that state was uncomfortable for a man. Guilt stabbed at her, realizing that her husband had focused on her pleasure instead of his.

“Anthony, perhaps we should consummate our marriage now?” She suggested tentatively as she stroked her hands down her husband’s torso, from his hairy chest to his stomach. _He feels good under my hands_ , Aziraphale thought lustfully. She wanted to her press her lips all over his body.

“There’s no rush,” He said, leaning down to plant kisses across her face, making her giggle. “We have all night, angel. You won’t be getting much sleep, I’m afraid.”

She squeezed his hips between her thighs, making him groan against her throat. “Neither will you.” She said cheekily.

Chuckling darkly, he huskily murmured, “That’s right, sweet thing.” He leant down and took her mouth in a ravenous kiss.

Their heads moved left and right atop the pillows as their mouths moved together, wet tongues and lips and teeth meeting in an age-old dance. Anthony sucked at her tongue hard, making her moan before returning the favour, licking back right into his mouth. She could feel her pussy pulsing with arousal just from kissing her new husband. And the knowledge of where that mouth of his had been just moments before! Oh, she was overflowing with lust.

Unable to control her want, and not entirely sure she was supposed to anyway, Aziraphale moved her hand downwards. She traced a path from Anthony’s chest to his stomach and further down to his jutting erection. He was deliberately keeping himself held aloft her using his strong arms, hovering, not wanting to rub his intimidating penis on her body.

Aziraphale did not feel intimidated. She wrapped her hand around the base of him and stroked upwards, once.

Anthony gasped into her mouth, surprised. His wide eyes popped open and met hers. “Angel…”

She smiled shyly at him before giving his cock another stroke, this time slower and tighter. “Tell me how to please you, Anthony.”

The Duke swallowed at her eagerness. “Keep doing that.”

So Aziraphale did. She kept stroking him, keeping her fist tight and her movements slow, fascinated by the way Anthony’s cock seemed to leak fluid at the head. No one told her that before, not even her mother during their conversation about her impending marriage night, the day before her wedding _. Although, it makes sense_ , she thought, _women apparently grew wet when aroused. It’s only right that men do the same._ She couldn’t help but notice, amused, that she was learning so much about sex during the act itself and not before.

Curious about the slickness at the tip of Anthony’s cock, she used her other hand to swipe at it, moving her fingers on the head of his dick in circular motion. Anthony’s continuous groans raised in pitch at that. His arms gave out and he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck with a helpless moan. His obvious pleasure sent a thrill down her spine as she continued to stroke him with both hands, one on his shaft and the other on the head of his cock.

“Angel!” He gasped suddenly at a particularly good stroke, deliciously slow and maddeningly tight. Anthony quickly grasped both her wrists in his hands and forced them away from his groin, shoving her hands into the pillows. His breaths came in loud pants.

“Did I hurt you?” Aziraphale gasped in alarm at Anthony’s reaction. He was breathing so hard and was red in the face, his grip on her wrists unyielding.

“No no,” He laughed at her shock, kissing her face reassuringly, breathing harshly through his nose. “I was about to come. Finish. In your hand.” He moaned into her ear. “That was amazing, angel. We’ll do it that way one day. But not tonight.”

She flushed with understanding and pride at the compliment, at the knowledge that she pleased him enough to want to repeat the act. She vibrated with joy and arousal at the thought of him nearly _finishing_ in her hand. She didn’t know why that fact was so sexy, but it was.

Aziraphale ached between the legs, had been for quite some time. She whined wordlessly at her husband as the ache grew, silently beseeching him to aid her.

He smirked at her whines. “Alright, my beautiful angel, it’s okay,” He whispered as he kissed her lips. “I can’t wait any longer either.”

He deepened the kiss, trailing his hand downwards to cup Aziraphale’s pussy to find her absolutely soaking, dripping her wetness everywhere. Anthony moaned into her mouth at the discovery. Gently, he pushed one finger into her and was met with no resistance, so he followed with another.

Aziraphale gasped at the feeling of being breached, kissing her husband desperately. She moved her lips and tongue urgently with his, as if that could help coax him to keep going, to not stop his ministrations between her legs.

Anthony moved his fingers in and out of her, savouring her delicious moans against his lips. With his free hand, he gripped a fistful of her silky champagne hair, kissing her fiercely. His cock hung heavy, aching between his legs, nearly purple. Growing desperate, but endlessly careful not to hurt her, he added another finger.

It was a measure of how painfully aroused she was that being stretched with three fingers for the first time did not hurt Aziraphale in the slightest. She was told by her mother that sex might hurt but she was yet to experience any pain. But she wasn’t thinking of that now. Her whole brain was occupied with only her husband, drenched in desire for him, only him.

Pulling her mouth away from Anthony’s, Aziraphale sobbed desperately as she writhed and bucked against her husband’s thrusting hand, the feeling of his fingers inside of her. Her eyes met with his, gazes locked in a lustful haze. “Anthony, please, please.” She begged.

Nodding wildly, Anthony honoured her wishes, pulling his fingers from between her legs carefully. He gripped his cock and brought the head flush against Aziraphale’s loosened opening. Their gazes met once again.

He smiled at her, a gentle smile, even in the throes of passion. “My beautiful angel, my wife, my lady,” He whispered. “My love.”

Aziraphale gasped at the endearment, at the _word_ , eyes wide and filling with emotion. “My love.” She whispered back, holding back tears as she cupped his face with her hands. She gently kissed him before murmuring against his lips. “Please.”

With the plea, Anthony slowly eased himself inside of Aziraphale for the first time. They both moaned. There was still no pain, Aziraphale marvelled to herself amidst the wonder of having him inside her, at the amazing stretch and feeling of his cock against her slick walls. She concluded that older women had no idea what they were talking about.

“Are you alright?” Anthony groaned against her neck. The poor dear was trembling, Aziraphale could feel it underneath her hands that cupped his neck and shoulder. She stroked her hand down his back in sympathy.

“Yes,” She assured, kissing his temple. “Please, my love.”

He groaned out consonants before moving his hips, pulling back a little and pushing back in. Anthony groaned some more after just that small movement. “Fuckkkk…” He gasped, his voice deep and shivery. “You feel incredible. I need a moment.”

She giggled at his obvious distress, pulling his face away from where he was hiding against her throat before peppering kisses all over his strained face. “It’s alright, it’s okay.” She kept murmuring against his skin, holding his dear head in her hands. She carded her fingers through his flaming red hair. With a growl, he captured her mouth in a toe-curling kiss, deep and wet, until they were both moaning.

After a few moments, Anthony finally pulled himself together enough to start thrusting shallowly, moving in and out little by little. He kissed down Aziraphale’s neck all the while, nipping at her throat hungrily, gripping her hips tight with both hands. The blonde arched her neck back and moaned to the canopy of their joined bed as her husband’s thrusts gained momentum. The feeling was so intense yet so indescribably good.

Aware that he could not be too rough during his wife’s first time, Anthony thrusted into her as hard as he dared, paying attention to Aziraphale’s reactions. Her moans and the way her face and body screamed out her pleasure dialled Anthony’s arousal almost to the limit. She was being moved up and down on the bed with every snap of his hips, her hands scrabbling at his broad shoulders as she made those extremely arousing noises of hers. Her generous breasts bounced with every stroke of his cock inside her. Anthony couldn’t help but growl at the vision she made as he rutted into her. The wet sounds of their sex echoed in their warmly lit bedroom, driving him mad.

Aziraphale has never experienced pleasure like this. She was almost in tears at how amazing sex with her husband felt. Her whole body was on fire, her loins most of all, her vagina pulsing as it stretched to accept Anthony. She could feel herself quickly approaching the same crescendo she reached earlier from her husband’s mouth against her pussy, the _orgasm_ he spoke of _._ Helpless, Aziraphale could only arch her back up off the bed as she welcomed the feeling, the orgasm, as it ripped through her, making her cry out loudly.

Anthony watched in amazement and mind-bending arousal as his wife reached completion without him touching her clitoris, which he was just about to do. Hurriedly, in the hope of making her orgasm more pleasurable, he reached down and rubbed her clitoris firmly with the pad of his index finger. Aziraphale practically screamed, convulsing underneath his hands as her vagina pulsed hard around him.

The sharp contractions of Aziraphale’s sweet pussy wrapped tight around his cock was too much, especially since Anthony was already so close. With a booming groan, the Duke came long and hard inside his new bride, spurting more wetness between her legs. He muffled his groans against her neck, mouthing at it desperately as nearly painful pleasure wracked his trembling body.

The newlywed couple laid in a sweaty, panting tangle in their burgundy marital bed, both trying to catch their breaths. Merry crackling from the inferno in their fireplace and their loud heaves were the only sounds filling the bedroom for a long moment.

Eventually, Aziraphale wrapped Anthony in her arms as he laid on top of her, unmoving. She was slowly coming to, opening her eyes to the sight of a headful of sweaty red hair. She giggled deliriously, finding this amusing for some reason.

“What’s so funny?” Anthony mumbled drowsily against her collarbone.

“Nothing.” Aziraphale whispered back, tightening her arms around him.

“Hmmm.” Her husband replied noncommittally, stirring at last. A loud squelch sounded as he finally pulled out of her, nearly ripping another giggle from Aziraphale. With a groan, Anthony heaved himself up by his arms, using one hand to grope for something on the bedside table. Aziraphale watched him curiously.

Anthony’s hand returned holding a cloth, dark and heavy with moisture. Belatedly, she realized that the cloth sat on the bedside table next to a bowl full of water. She wondered how they escaped her notice when she surveyed the bedroom earlier.

Gently, Anthony brought the cloth between Aziraphale’s damp legs and wiped her clean. He dunked the cloth in the bowl of water again, used it to clean himself and tossed the cloth back on the dresser. The blonde marvelled at his care and how blasé he was about the whole thing as she herself had flushed at his gentle ministrations. She looked forward to no longer feeling nervous around her husband, especially when it comes to sex.

Anthony used one arm to lift her up off the bed and the other to pull the covers down. The wedded couple moved underneath five layers of blankets and settled down against the mountain of pillows. The Duke gathered his new bride against him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping both arms around her snugly.

“Are you alright, angel?” He asked her, kissing the top of her curly fair head.

“I’m okay,” She whispered back, snuggling against him contentedly. “Did I please you?” She couldn’t help but ask.

A deep chuckle from her husband made her grin. “No doubt about it, my love.” Aziraphale wanted to cry with joy yet again at the endearment. It was fast becoming her favourite, though ‘angel’ would always have a special place in her heart as the first nickname Anthony had given her. “Rest now, my angel, you must be exhausted. We have a long trip tomorrow.”

Aziraphale had nearly forgotten their honeymoon. Anthony had refused to tell her where it will be, simply saying that it was a surprise. It had gnawed on her then as it did now. She pulled herself up to face him, using her folded arms on his chest as a place to prop her head. “Won’t you tell me where our honeymoon will be now?” She asked hopefully.

He smirked at her wickedly, his handsome face crinkling with amusement. “No, I will not. You do know what a surprise is, don’t you, my love?”

Aziraphale huffed in exasperation, pouting prettily at him. “Surprises are overrated.”

Anthony shook his head, his smirking face softening into a warm, loving gaze. “No, they aren’t. You have been the best surprise I have ever received, ever since that ball where I first saw you.”

Her heart burst with happiness as Aziraphale beamed joyfully at her new husband, gazing into his beautiful golden eyes. “And you’re mine, my love. The best surprise of my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: You might have noticed that I talked about pain in relation to vaginal sex a lot in this fic. That was deliberate. If you have a vagina and you're a virgin, especially if you're young, please know that vaginal sex is not supposed to hurt. Not even during your first time. If it does, even a little bit, then your partner needs to slow down and the both of you need to do more foreplay to get you aroused and ready for penetration. I read soooo many comments on a TikTok last month - young girls sharing how they experienced excruciating pain during their first times and it made me so sad and scared for the younger generation. Please know that it's not supposed to hurt, my little angels.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy this little fic! It'll make my day!


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